Drowned
by Faraway4today
Summary: Fame is perilous. Love is fatal. The battle between which will kill you first is the game of life. Lost in a whirlpool of emotions, will Ran be torn apart by the rocks or the rapids? AU
1. Rain

**Chapter 1**  
  


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Ran sat reclined in a leather seat as the airplane was taxied away from the runway. The Hong Kong to Tokyo midnight flight had been a tiring, or maybe it hadn't been exciting enough to keep him awake. After finishing making a new music video he'd hoped to get some time to enjoy Southern China, but no such luck. Not surprising though, a young Japanese man with blood red hair and violet eyes is a little quite easy to pick out in a crowd by any fan. His luck was still bad because the flight was so boring. The first-class accommodations on the flight offered no good-looking attendants that he'd seen. The in-flight movie was some action flick called "XXX" with a man that looked like a rubber ducky. His meal was something between plastic and wood while his seat was smelled like cheap cologne. Being next to Ken didn't help either. He wasn't loud or hyper, but fast asleep since they'd taken off. He didn't blame the brunette for passing out so quickly, Hong Kong owned the most demanding fans ever seen.   
  
At the Chinese airport thousands of those fanatics hounded them. The noise level rivaled any concert Ran had ever been to. It was the price paid to be an idol. Though he never saw himself as much of anything really, just a band member.   
  
Looking passed Ken and out the window, the rain was pouring down heavily outside turning the view of the airport into distorted bubbles of light and dark. It was still too early for dawn and the field was lit with speckles orange dots. Ran liked the sound of rain; it was a beautiful orchestra of infinite instruments to him. When he was a child his mother had told him that if he listened hard enough he'd hear the song the rain was playing. It was what lulled him to sleep many lonely nights after she'd died.   
  
Sighing to himself he looked over his band members, his brothers. The sleeping brunette was Hidaka Ken the band's vocalist. Sitting behind Ken and him were the other two members. The tall blonde was Kudou Yohji, the eldest of the group and the guitarist, and their youngest member was a small strawberry blonde who called himself Tsukiyono Omi. Omi and Ran played the keyboards and did all the synthesizing. There were four of them that made the Japanese based group called Weiß.   
  
No much to look at in his own opinion, but they're fans like them. In fact, their fans liked them a little too much. It was getting annoying and tiresome.   
  
Yohji was asleep while Omi was sitting looking out the window intently. Omi was only 17, still in school. His real name was Takatori Mamoru and his family was very well off, he'd changed it to prove he had more to himself than a name. Not that Ran found the name Takatori to be very great anyway. Omi's father was ok, but his uncle had nearly run his sister over once and the big koala never even apologized for it. As a Fujimiya, Ran did not let old grudges die quietly.   
  
Laying back into his seat, he gave another sigh. He was so bored. He watched lazily as a man sitting in front of him got up. The man was foreign, tall with black hair and wearing a pristine white suit. The well-dressed man began pulling something from the overhead compartment.   
  
"Sir, please remain in your seat until we have come to a complete stop," a Japanese flight attendant appeared instantly next the Ran.   
  
"Of course. Just a moment." Perfect Japanese with no accent, he must be here on business. Businessmen are the only people who care about learning foreign languages properly. He was probably flying to the United States, making him an American.   
  
"Please sit down now, sir." The man gave a sigh and looked at the attendant. He held a briefcase in his hands now.   
  
"Very well then." He sat down and buckled while his seat partner laughed rather loudly.   
  
"What's his problem?" Ken yawned and stretched as he'd woken up finally.   
  
"Enjoy your nap?" the redhead asked with a faint smirk playing at his lips.   
  
"Yeah, but it'd been nicer if I hadn't been woken up." Ken pouted. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then turned to see the other two. Yohji had woken up as well, but he'd been less annoyed since he was now flirting with the attendant.   
  
That was Yohji, playboy of the world. He flirted with any girl who was even slightly attractive. It was very shameful. His appetite spanned the entire female populace. But he never dated. He'd lost his first girlfriend in an accident and that about anyone of the group knew about it.   
  
The attendant started giggling. However the flight was now over and she was being called to the front. As the woman made for the front of the plane, she stopped next to the businessman again. Ran looked curiously for what had caught her attention, it was something of the TV screen. A commercial for Weiß's new video was playing. Ran sighed as the attendant turned to stare directing at him. She was totally in shock.   
  
This was getting extremely annoying with everyone always singling him out.   
  
"Do you mind?" The girl jumped back as the tall foreigner stood. The attendant took one more look at the musician then vanished to the front. She had the biggest grin plastered to her face.   
  
"Well, well, well. Looks like somebody got star struck." It was a nasally voice from another foreign who sat next the businessman. He was just as tall as his friend but wearing a loud green suit and had a wild mass of orange hair. "You should really think about changing your hair kid, people could see you from a mile away." The man smirked like the little cocky foreigner that he was.   
  
"The same could be said about you, but at least I'm not hideous sight to see." Ran stared back evenly. The carrot top sneered and puffed at him. He looked ready to kill but thought better of it. He turned and walked to the head of the plane behind his seat partner. Ken pocked Ran in the ribs as they also stood to leave.   
  
"He's right, you do stick out. I told you need get your hair fixed," Ken stated in a rather matter-of-fact tone.   
  
"Kenken, if he did that it just wouldn't be the Ran we know and love." Yohji emphasized his point by hugging the glaring young man. Omi laughed and smacked Yohji on the head.   
  
It was a slow process to get from their seats to the luggage claim. It was amazing how intelligent, resourceful and supernaturally fast fans are, they just always know where their bishounen were. Maybe they were psychic. Nevertheless, it took one hour and twelve bodyguards to finally get their luggage and it took another hour to get to the limousine.   
  
"We've got to get better security." Omi sigh as he rubbed his war wound of the day, or is it still technically night. It was still dark, but he was getting so confused. Ran was getting annoyed with everything. Everything except the recording studio they were in.   
  
It was his favorite places in the world were recording studios and their record label owned a lot. The large and impressive building they were in was five levels down and thirty-five levels up. It housed the headquarters of their producer, many officers, several boardrooms and twelve separate recording studios.   
  
"Things are starting to get dangerous," Ken frown as he also rubbed a sore he'd gotten at the airport.   
  
"I totally agree Hidaka-san." The president of their record label walked in casually and patted Omi on the head.   
  
Takatori Shuuichi, Omi's father, was somewhat tolerable, but still thought he was God. The Takatori family had a hand in every industry and production, from medical to political. It was disgusting.   
  
"We're glad that you do papa, but that doesn't really fix the problem." Omi pouted. He hated being treated like a child, but since he looked so much younger than his seventeen years of age, it wasn't surprising when it happened.   
  
Ran sighed; this was not how he enjoyed his time at the studio. Studios were for working, not places for having a meeting. He hated conversing with that man, all he wanted was some peace, a little music and to work on a new arrangement.   
  
"Why are you here, sir?" Ran asked, because getting to the point quickly would lead to him getting to do some work sooner.   
  
"I told you to call me Shuuichi, please. However, you are right. I do have a reason for being here. I've found a great solution to your growing problems with the public." When you see Takatori Shuuichi smile, it means a just devil got its horns…   
  
"And how is that? Hire an army?" Yohji laughed sarcastically. Although the blonde hadn't received any wounds, two male fans had decided to proclaim their undying love to him.   
  
The result was an extreme mental scarring to the playboy.   
  
"Close. I called in a favor with some old family friends and they sent me the four finest bodyguards. They just arrived this morning," he announced while beaming with pride.  
  
Shuuichi seemed to have been expecting some kind of reaction, perhaps it was a doggy treat. But one really should never expect much from tired and cranky musicians.   
  
So he just stood there expectantly, and nothing was happening. As pleasant as Ran found the silence to be, it wasn't very productive. He sighed again.   
  
"Are you going to introduce us, sir?" Shuuichi frowned at the anticlimactic turn of events, but he did open the door to allow four men in.   
  
It was going to be a long day.   
  


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Thank you for reading and I hope to hear what you think!  
  



	2. Fog

_I would like to take a small bit of space reply to you all.   
  
Leah: Thank you for you words of support.   
Talisa Ahn: It's spelt Schwarz and no I'm afraid that's not quite what's happened, but good guess.   
Rei Eien: You are half right! but half wrong too. I'm not going to say more, but you'll figure it out. don't you just love the supense. ^.^   
Corrupt Prodigy: I've hurry up and gotten this chapter up as quick as I could (Well, not really since it's been done since before I even posted the first chapter). I hope you enjoy it.   
Mami-san: Well, somebody needs to bash the orange pancake. Who better than me? As much as I love the German beer-belly-boy, it is simply too tempting to insult him at every chance I get.   
  
Thank you all for reading and I won't hold you back anylonger. Enjoy!_  
  


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**Chapter 2**  
  


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He rubbed the sleep from his tired eyes. It was a new day, even if it was still dark outside. Pulling out of the covers, taking the time to enjoy the last soft touches of slumber, he made a good yawn and stretch. The drowsy young man got up and out of bed.   
  
Fujimiya Ran was not a morning person, but he was disciplined. Like clockwork, he'd wake and go to the roof of his apartment building to practice his kendo. Even his personal bodyguard, a man with large muscle and little intelligence, couldn't pull himself out of bed as early as the musician did to train with him.   
  
Shuuichi's bodyguard idea was actually quite useless. The guards had protected them from several mobs and a couple attacks. The personal bodyguards, however, had failed in protecting them. Poor Yohji was harassed and stalked by an obsessive fan. Ken was pulled over a railing into a mob of hormonal teenagers. While Omi was still in the hospital, his jaw was broken with a plastic dog that had hit him in the face. Needless to say, the four musclemen were not helping the problem. It really was becoming a more serious problem by the day. The attacks weren't malicious, but they were still getting more and more dangerous. Mobs simple got out of hand too easily.   
  
Ran began practice at 6:30am on the dot. The rooftop of his apartment complex was covered with smooth gray pebbles and the air was cool. The predawn gray didn't bother him at all. It was calming to practice there during the early hours, when it was quiet. On the roof he was nothing special or unique, just another pebble.   
  
This was his second favorite place in the world, second only because of the two ominous towers that faced him.   
  
The apartment complex was owned entirely by the Takatori family, it was the fairly high with 24 levels. However, there were two builds taller than the complex. The Takatori family owned one and their rival, the Ota Cooperation, owned the other. Both were Japanese, but Ota had foreign market based connections and Takatori controlled most of Japan.   
  
The redhead had never liked the towers to begin with, but now he was getting paranoid about them. After returning from Hong Kong, he'd taken some serious thought to his appearance. He did gather a lot of attention. It made him think that he may not be such a small indiscriminant pebble on the rooftop. It seriously scared him to think some fifty-year-old woman was spying on him from her office window. Somebody watching him sweat and train while sporting only black drawstring pants every morning. He lost his concentration whenever the thought surfaced. Loss of concentration meant he face planted into the rocks.   
  
But none of that was going to stop the Japanese man from doing as he'd always done. A Fujimiya did not run, did not back down, and did not break tradition. He wouldn't change his routine just as he didn't change his hair color. He was a student of kendo, so he'd train daily. Red was his natural color, so it was staying red till it stopped growing. He was stubborn and knew it.   
  
By the time he'd come to that conclusion, the sun was breaking out. Ran sighed and returned to his apartment. He showered and dressed while his bodyguard still slept. His bodyguard, Junbo, took his own sweet time to wake up and since the musician wasn't due at work till noon, the lout had decided to sleep in.   
  
The trouble was that even without having work to do yet, the musician did still have an appetite. So, the young man left for breakfast without his guard. Not too smart for him, but not too dangerous at 7 o'clock in the morning. He'd dressed casual, black slacks and purple button down shirt. As a precaution, he brought an extra set of clothes in an over-the-shoulder backpack and wore a black fisherman style hat to hide some of his hair.   
  
The redhead set off to find some breakfast. He headed toward the two towers. He reasoned that since many of the employees of the building would be starting their days about now, coffee shops would be opening business for the morning rush.   
  
It was getting foggy down on the streets. Ran was glad he'd worn his leather coat. The apartment roof was higher than the fog line, and he'd not pay enough attention to the weather.   
  
Remembering his thoughts from earlier, he paused in his walking. Looking up to see the two giants before him. It made him feel like falling backwards, falling forever into a deep void. Why was he so small?   
  
"Morning Red." It was that nasally voice, again. Ran sighed; this was not a good way to start his day.   
  
Looking towards the building next to him and there he found the man with his friend. It was the Hyatt Hotel and the two men were descending the steps toward him. They were both wearing the same outfits from before. Well, maybe not the one with glasses, suits all looked the same really and white is a common suit color. On the other hand he was sure the carrot top had dressed in the dark this morning, probably every morning. It was a repulsive to look at this early in the morning, but not nearly as hideous a sight as that smirk.   
  
There could not be any sanity left in that man.   
  
"Where are you off to so early in the morning, little Red Riding Hood?" asked the carrot. What business does he have in what Ran was doing. Never let the enemy gain the upper hand.   
  
"Why to my grandmother's house with some cake and a little pot of butter, Mr. Wolf," he replied. Ran wasn't sure how that smirk could get any bigger and still fit on anyone's face, but it had. It was too early in the morning to be dealing with people like this. Hunger and gloom was all that kept him from pummel the tall foreign idiot.   
  
"If you don't mind…" the white suit adjusted a pair of glasses properly on his nose and waited calming before him. The Japanese man look at him, slightly confused as to what was being asked of him. It was as if he were looking at one of the towers, he suddenly felt so small and insignificant against this giant. When did he get so small?   
  
The man was standing so close that the scent of his cologne caught the musician senses. His raven locks of hair had flecks of blue in them. It was silly, but Ran found him to be a handsome man. Then again anyone would seem handsome next to that vile image of the orange idiot.   
  
"The car, Red. We would like to get into the limousine before it runs out of gas," the carrot top explained.   
  
Looking behind at the vehicle, he stepped aside feeling very foolish. However, the smirk was gone and now the ugly foreigner was glaring at him.   
  
The wolf didn't look like the kind of guy who minded being late for work, so why was he glaring now. It wasn't like he'd told the man flat out that he looked like a seedy pervert or an insane stalker, but that was how he viewed the man. Maybe the two foreigners were a couple and so the possessive little twit was jealous.   
  
It was really too early to be thinking this much.   
  
There was a pull on Ran's sleeve. He turned to find three girls dressed in high school uniforms standing in front of the Hyatt. They all looked rather anxiously at him, but he couldn't find of any reason why.   
  
"Um… Excuse us, I'm Tomoe Sakura. I was wondering, are you? Are you Fujimiya Ran?" Oh, that... A logical reason for three teenagers to stand ogling him in the middle of the street at 7:30 in the morning would have to be that they've spotted their idol. He'd forgotten what he was for a moment.   
  
"Yes, can I help you?" He sighed. It was better than the orange phantom; at least these girls liked him. What harm could a few autographs do?  
  
Well, it would have been very little harm done if they hadn't started screaming, which drew a lot of attention. Celebrities and attention were a bad combination. It was getting very crowded very quickly. How was he going to get away?   
  
He felt someone grab him from behind. His world spun for several everlasting moments as he was pulled. He was falling back. There was screaming and shouting, but he couldn't open his eyes. He was moving, the noise was getting less, where was he.   
  
"You're safe, Red. So you can open your eyes now." Ran blinked couple of times to straight his vision.   
  
They'd saved him? They had saved him from the mob. Well, he was out of the frying pan, but the fire was a hot orange color.   
  
He was sitting in the limousine across from the white raven and the orange wolf. He'd certainly not expected them to save him. Why did they help him? Since when do wealthy businessmen drive up and save some poor pathetic strange on the street? Aren't they supposed to run over poor helpless people with their limousine? And why the hell is that man smirking again?   
  
The orange man began snickering. The other man adjusted his glasses again. As handsome as he seemed outside, is exactly how frightening he was inside. The way his spectacles reflected the light as they'd moved, the way his fine white cotton suit contrasted with the black leather interior, how effortlessly professional he, all of those things made the simple musician shiver.   
  
"Where should we drop you off?" the raven asked. His voice was very commanding. It even made the wolf quiet down, probably the only thing in the universe that could silence him. He was still smirking though.   
  
"We're going to a breakfast, want to come Red?" Wolf grinned, which was a nice vacation from his smirk but not any more pleasant to look at. The raven raised a brow to that offer.   
  
"Thank you. Thank you very much for your help, but I should be getting back the my work." Work is good. Eating breakfast with the Lucifer and his orange minion is bad, very bad.   
  
"You didn't look in too much of a hurry earlier." So, the man has more than a smirk. Damn. Ran was not dining with the bogeyman and the smirking madman because he'd become an extremely dead man.   
  
As annoying and depressing as his little world could get, he did enjoy the idea of being alive.   
  
"I couldn't." There would have been extended protests, there would have been stronger rationales, there would have, there really would have. But when the bogeyman raises his hand, the argument ends and his decision is final. Hopefully, the man was still feeling kindly the strangers.   
  
"By the way, Red," he returned back to the classic smirk, "Call me Schuldig. This is Crawford."   
  
The musician opened his mouth to inform him of his own name, but Crawford spoke. No arguments and no interruptions, otherwise the bogeyman will eat you.   
  
"We're breakfasting at the Ota Cooperation Tower." Guess the man was no longer in a generous mood.   
  
"They have the best breakfasts," said the eager wolf to the sweet little lamb.   
  
"It is, however, slightly more formal than slacks so perhaps you'd prefer to stop and change." He wasn't being asked if he'd agree to go, but where to stop to pick up his clothes. Stopping and running away sounded very appealing at the moment. However they'd probably run him over with the limousine in that case. Why in the hell did they want him at some business meeting anyway? And who dressed formally to a breakfast?   
  
Ran hated meetings. He hated today. He hated foreigners. He hated the towers. He hated stupid fans. He hated being in this limousine. But most of all he really hated the way that man kept smirking!   
  
Maybe Schuldig had plastic surgery to make it stick on his face like that.   
  
"I live at in a apartment north of here, The Koneko Sumu-le," he replied. He was caught between fear and elation, since he'd just given his address to two men who could very well slice him to pieces while he slept peacefully and the idea of having his bodyguard by his side soon. The oaf's inability was hardly common knowledge.   
  
"You're something famous though. I bet if we walked into any department store, they're give you everything for free," with that said he picked up the car phone, spoke some strange words and the car stopped in front of the Armani shop.   
  
Ran sighed, what was wrong with his lifestyle that made him deserve this kind of treatment?   
  
It had to be the hair.   
  


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Thank you again for reading and all your lovely reviews!  
  



	3. Bubbles

_This small bit of space is being taken to reply to all the people who wrote to me.   
  
Rei Eien: Yes, she is creepy. I like to put her in just so I can insult her. Anyone as clueless and vapid as her, needs to but laughed at so that futre generation stupid mating with them and thus their population will decline. O.O It's midnight... ok.  
Shuo Ri: That was a great analogy for the duet. I don't think "...dress-up dolly for these foreign freaks of affluence..." can beat compare, but I did honestly try! It's not easy to insult scary, spooky, and really hairy guys. ^.^ Well, maybe it is.  
Shirogane: Thank you for putting this story under your favorites, I never imagine people to like it THAT much, but I like feeling so loved. Thankyou! And I don't know if it is, I am hoping for that pairing becuase I really love it too, but I don't really know if the fic wants to do that... You see the silly thing has a mind of it's own, and it's not my mind and not any mind that I familiar with so I don't know... J/K I think it be, but I don't actually know where to take this fic, I'm just writing it and writing it then posting it weekly. That's also the reason it in the R-rated section and the genre keeps changing, I'm taking no chances because I know nothing. ~.^ Well, mostly nothing.   
Sakura_Aya: That's a good question. I will pull them in because *SPOILER & CHEESECAKE!* However, Farfallow maybe more tame than normal since it'd be to difficult for me to make him the violent little pixie of DOOM that we all know and love. Have I mentioned that it's now half-past midnight... LALA!   
  
Thank you all for your wonderful support and back to the story. Enjoy!_  
  


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**Chapter 3**  
  


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"Good morning gentlemen. How may I help you?" It was humorous that, even though Crawford was not the one shopping and not the one standing in the middle but in fact standing to back and off to the side, the clerk was still speaking to the bogeyman. Just goes to show that appearances do matter. Schuldig was not looking very happy about that.   
  
Ran remembered the reason why he detested shopping quite well. He felt like running, but the orange wolf had longer legs than he did so there was no chance of out running the predator.   
  
"My friend here needs a suit. Nothing tailored, just something on hand. It need to be simple but stylish." The clerk turned to the victim and seemed rather disappointed at having to deal with lower-class people. It was the wolf that took more insult, however. Pushing passed the annoying little Asian retailer and pulling the Japanese musician along, it was something akin to leading the lamb to slaughter.   
  
"I have two already at home," that earned a glare from him, "I mean couldn't we just stop there? It'd be so much faster." He didn't know what was worse, the smirking or the glaring. His hat and pack were off before he knew to contest the pillaging act.   
  
"Fujimiya. You need more than just any common suit. People like you need refinement. A pure black two piece with a burgundy button-drown in raw-silk would fit you nicely." The foreigner began searching about for clothing while the young man stood in awe. Not only had the man gotten his sense of style and taste correct, but that'd been the first time he'd ever used his real name. Perhaps Schuldig was finally giving him some respect.   
  
"One should never pay much attention to most of the words that come from Schuldig's mouth. However, style is one thing he does actually know about," stated the good Englishman. He was seated with Ran's hat and pack. It was odd but the man's mouth twitched after he'd said that, like he would have smiled or laughed if he knew how to. Though it seemed highly unlikely that a man like that even knew how to smirk, even with that dork modeling one from dawn till dusk. And style? How could a man who combines orange hair with a green suit possess proper vision let alone an iota of style? Maybe they weren't foreigners, but actually aliens from Jupiter?   
  
However, that smirk was more tolerable when one knew there was respect behind it.   
  
"Good morning," an old man said. The stiff was probably the owner of the shop, considering how he was dressed in a tailored Armani. He was not the softly aging Japanese type either but the cheap and miserly kind of geezer who wants money and a nice retirement. Hadn't his staff informed the man of how they were buying for the low-class Asian and not Lucifer?   
  
"What do you want now?" Schuldig snapped back.   
  
"I'm Uyeda Keiichi. Please excuse my staff. Please have my sincerest apologies." Well, Why were these people open so early if they weren't expecting anyone? They were probably waiting for some high roller that paged them to be here this morning.   
  
The young man shrugged. He didn't want to be here anymore than they wanted him to be here, so it was pretty even. But why was this guy still being nice? If he had bigger fish to sell to soon, why would he be nice to a small fry like him? Well, people have to pass the time somehow.   
  
"Thank you, sir. But we won't waste your time."   
  
"Ho, ho, ho! Making sure my customers are taken care of is my job. Now, are you sure you didn't want something fitted?" It was nice that the stingy man was being polite to their faces, but laughing and coming over pat his shoulder was more than he needed to do. As for his good happy hearted soul, if that was a real laugh then Crawford is the sugar plum fairy. He was already being forced to buy a suit, why was everyone making the experience even more agonizing?   
  
The orange revenge returned to the group with a few items. He grinned widely as he pushed Ran toward a changing room. The man didn't mind getting away from everyone but that didn't mean he wanted to try the clothes. He wasn't some dress-up dolly for these foreign freaks of affluence. Why was he doing this?  
  
All of the items were tasteful and extravagant. He normally bought sensible things, things that were simple and elegant. He didn't like how ridiculously expensive it all was or how fake the people were either. Why did he even need any of this?   
  
He closed his eyes and pulled up what he hoped would be an emotionless expression and opened the door. He didn't feel like looking at how people found his looks to be so strange or how horrible he'd probably looked right now. That smirking bastard had no reasons to be nice to him, but he could have plenty of things to hate about the musician. He knew what was going to happen, he'd be laughed at. Not for the outfit, because it was actually quite nice, but that he'd worn it wrong or something. In the end he'd become the butt of everyone's joke. Why was he doing this again? He didn't really owe them anything. They certainly seemed to dislike him every fifth moment or so. What could he have to offer them? What did they want with him? Their wealth was obviously very large but Ran wasn't a key person in any organization. Why take a random him to breakfast with important businessmen? His family wasn't that well known and he just played a keyboard for a Japanese band. Didn't companies still employ proper geishas anymore? Why did they need him to supply them with their sick sort of entertainment?   
  
He emerged from the changing room calmly which was quite a feat considering he'd just reminded himself of the small twist growing in his stomach. He really was very hungry though. It hadn't been so terrible a pain earlier but it was steadily increasing in size and volume. He wasn't sure he'd make it to the breakfast before collapsing dead on the ground.   
  
"Well that is absolutely perfect for you," which wasn't a surprising thing to heard from a man trying to sell it to him. Ran didn't need any of this. He was wasting time here.   
  
"No."   
  
"Oh, perhaps you'd like a violet shirt better?" Ran glared straight past the salesman to Schuldig.   
  
"This is ridiculous. I have a suit at home I can wear. It'll take five minutes to drive there and then to the breakfast." He was cranky but being really very hungry does that to people. "These are perfectly fine clothes, but I don't need them."   
  
"Mr. Fujimiya. Armani is a symbol of style and class. Somebody of your status should only wear the best. You're very popular, you should be seen in only the highest quality clothing." Old men take things too personally. "The suit is a gift, Mr. Fujimiya. Complements of Armani to you, sir."   
  
Was the miser giving him the suit for free? Oh, that was just wrong. These guys were sick and wrong.   
  
Ran had known there was a joke, but now he found the punch line. That smirking little weasel did this all just to see if the damn thing would come free for a celebrity. It was slightly moronic that he was more insulted by the fact the joke was not on himself but the poor, all be it selfish, retailer. However, that hardly swayed the young man. He spent the rest of the time at the shop plagued by his conscience and pride, the two most driving factors of his life.   
  
When the boy was safely back in the limousine, well as safe as one can be with a serpent and a head case, he finally decided to voice his opinion.   
  
"I've changed my mind about you." Ran said evenly.   
  
"Really, Red? Do you now realize how intelligent I am?" He was smirking again… it was like this deformity on his face. Maybe he'd been hit with a shovel as a child and now his face made that strange pathetic version of a smile. It could possible be that the foreigner was born with the disfigurement, perhaps something related to down syndrome. Or maybe he was just really weird. Nevertheless, he was an abnormal and mental deranged carrot top with a fine taste for fashion that he disregarded when dressing every morning.   
  
"You are very Machiavellian," he answered simply. However, hell frozen over for one brief moment as Crawford grin widely and gave slight breathe of laughter. A truly Kodak moment as they say.   
  
The bogeyman really was the only creature alive that could stop that orange freak of nature from talking and smirking. The weasel sat in equal awe of the single most amazing moment of time. Then that look deformed expression returned and was bestowed upon the innocent lamb.   
  
"How the Hell does some Japanese singsong boy with bunches of hormonal teenage groupies following him around the clock know a word like that?" and as agreeable as said musician found most of that comment to be, it was still meant as an insult.   
  
"How does a orange haired man walk out the door in the same green outfit everyday?" A Fujimiya does not miss the chance to dominate.   
  
"I do not wear the same outfit everyday!" And as enjoyable as the rest of the fight would have been if it had carried on, the bogeyman spoke.   
  
"We have arrived." That said. The two well-behavior little boys followed to big scary monster out of the car and into the darkness under the bed.   
  
Well, it wasn't really very dark since they were outside and simply walking up the front stairs of the Ota Cooperation Tower. The sunlight was making everything look a little golden. The building itself seemed ominous, as did its twin normally, but the young man wasn't going to say that he found either tower to be intimidating. Ran was better than that.   
  
The last time he'd been in the tower it had frightened him. He'd been with his mother. She had worked at the building before she'd married. Many of her friends still worked there, so during a trip to Tokyo she'd decided to visit them all. He'd only been nine years old at the time, but the memory of his mother's bright smiles and bubbling laughter was still fresh to him. Also the memory of the many people, who pinched, patted and hugged him that day, was hard to forget.   
  
They called him beautiful and handsome, most certainly his mother's son, while his younger sister Aya was not. Everyone was pleasant to her, but they didn't much care for her. Everyone loved five-year-old little girls with dimples and pigtails, excluding brothers of course. The girl was still the center of attention and she was sixteen. It still baffled Ran.   
  
The boy took one last breath of freedom and entered the building.   
  
Schuldig put his hand on the musician back and ushered him followed more closely. Immediately pulling away from the contact, the orange wolf frowned at the slight. The younger man disliked the idea of being touched by a massive orange Cheshire cat. Didn't everyone?   
  
The Japanese man watched all the people in the lobby stare at their entrance. They were probably looking at the odd and disturbing eyesore that was the orange and green siren. A tall, ugly foreigner would draw attention anywhere he went.   
  
"Well, aren't you popular?" mused the younger man. The carrot top laughed.   
  
"They're not looking at us cutie. We scare them. You on the other hand are a Japanese man with crimson locks and violet eyes. Beautiful, exotic, and all natural I'm guessing. Not a common thing to see, ever." He was smirking again, but that was not as bad as the fact that he pat Ran on the head. He patted him, like he was the man's pet. What was wrong with this guy? Was anyone going to give him respect around here?   
  
"Mr. Crawford, Mr. Schuldig, good morning. They're waiting for you upstairs," said a middle-age woman. She was neat and with few wrinkles. Hair short, skirt long, make up simple, she was the model of the working woman. It reminded him of his mother, but without the radiant smile his mother had which made her look younger. This woman smiled, but it didn't reach her full face. Fake smiles are like that; they can only cover so much before the truth shows up from underneath.   
  
She didn't seem to like either of the foreigners and wasn't taking the time to notice the native. Not that he minded since he'd gotten his fair share of notice already.   
  
Ran patiently waited before the elevator. He glanced at the carrot top. Beyond the smirking leprechaun of doom, there were two young men standing close to each other looking at the trio suspiciously. The pair didn't look like businessmen, but then neither did the orange avenger over here. Well, funny looks were expected when two scary foreigners walk in with a popular music artist.   
  
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, they entered, and all was normal for a few brief moments of bliss. It was a small elevator, but it smell like cinnamon and honey. The moment ended when the woman gasped, well it might have been more like a hiccup, but she made a noise. People don't randomly emit sounds on a regular basis, and if the do they're generally not from their mouth. In this case, it seemed the lady noticed that there was third male occupant in the elevator. How wonderful, she's finally become aware of her surroundings.   
  
"You're." She looked too old to be a fan, but then he never did understand fans. Even his own sister baffled him with her obsession towards Iceman. He should smile for her, but he didn't like to lie to people. He really couldn't wait until breakfast…  
  
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, they exited, and all was normal for the short walk down a large hall. The hall really was huge too. The décor was tasteful and conventional. It looked pleasant, but something about this place put him ill at ease.   
  
"Please go inside. Ota is waiting for you," she said, turning to face them and bowing deeply. The two older men continued on passed a set of double doors, but Ran stopped. Schuldig pause to look back at him.   
  
The woman was smiling at the musician, genuinely. She might even have had some tears in her eyes. He didn't know why anyone would be so overjoyed by seeing him, but then he didn't know a lot of things.   
  
He smiled back as best he could, since he was a little confused and a little cranky. The lady just burst at that pathetic excuse for a happy face and started hugging him rather fiercely and crying what he hoped were tears of joy. Being more than a little confused now, he looked to the insanity of orange in forest green trousers for help.   
  
But he was smirking again…   
  
"Oh, excuse me." She pulled back from him, still teary-eyed. "It's just." Shaking her head, she walked brusquely back to the elevators. Ran sighed and turned to follow his pseudo-companions into the next room.   
  
The room was bright. The morning fog had burned off completely leaving the sunshine to cascade through the canopy of glass. It was like a green house, but the room held sparse amounts of foliage. There was mainly the large glass tabletop covered with delicious breakfast foods of multiple origins, or at least that's what really caught Ran's attention first.   
  
A woman dressed in a red suit sat at the table reading a paper. She had large bouncing curls in her hair, obviously just as fake as the crimson hair. He knew what natural blood-red hair looked like and hers was totally counterfeit. As they entered she smiled and looked up to see the arriving company.   
  
"Crawford, what brings you back to the island?" she asked. The woman looked at Schuldig and shook her head and gave a light laugh, "Never did care how you looked. Aye, Schuldig?" The troupe sat down comfortably and the middle aged woman looked at Ran. Nodding politely, as if to accept the extra to her table, he took his place next to the weasel.   
  
So this was Ota, it didn't like she could rival the koala man.   
  
"Returning for work or still in search for some?" she asked gingerly, returning to the paper.   
  
"Still searching," replied the white suit. A waiter, who appeared out of nowhere, poured them all drinks while the green suit placed delectable treats onto the other redhead's plate.   
  
"I suppose I could help you. If that' all you came for then you could have simply called." She was a rather aloof kind of woman. Some may label it as pure arrogance, but there was more class in her than that.   
  
"Hope you don't mind that we brought along a stay kitten," said the Cheshire because that stupid smirk was back in full force.   
  
"No, but it is surprising," she replied and looked up at the young musician, "You don't usually pick up stragglers. Are you going to introduce us?"   
  
"Ota, a pleasure to meet you," Ran said, standing up and bowing his head. Ota nodded in return while sipping a drink in her hand. "My name is Fujimiya Ran."   
  
The sound of glass shattered on the ground is actually quite frightening, not that any grown would admit that publicly, but Ota jumped. She stared at the boy for awhile looking rather shocked. Why was he suddenly evoking these hysterical reactions upper first encounters with the oppose sex? Normally people in general aren't that surprised to meet him. Then again, he seemed to have become a magnet for strange and unusual people in general lately, starting this morning actually. Today was a very confusing day and it wasn't even to the halfway mark. He should have never come back to this place.   
  
But at least nobody pinched him this time.   
  


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I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you again for reading and all your lovely reviews you've given me!  
  



	4. Puddle

_This small bit of space is being taken to reply to all the people who wrote to me.   
  
Talisha Ahn: Better late then never! And I think YOU meant "with AN insane"... MHAHAHHAHA! you said INSANE. But anyways, I did as I was bid [it rhymes] so I hope you're happy with be. ^.^ I like to have people be happy, unless they are bad people... Yeah so hope you like it.   
Rei Eien: Well, he may be hoping he had too... then again if he could have read this chapter he'd totally be glad.   
Shirogane:MHAHHAHAHAH!!!! Just you wait! I have done the impossible (which could be good or bad in your opinion, but I'm not telling) and as for a muse... The thing seems to like evil laughs and doing those etc dots...   
Sakura_Aya WEll, I never expected that to happen to you, so I sorry this took so long to write. Farf-peep is going to be fun to write... YAY! As for the muse problem, well I figure if I look at its personality then I'll know who it is. I'm betting on it being somebody from Gravi, but I'm really not sure yet.   
:Shuo Ri: I have given you more! I hope it's good, I like it.   
  
Thank you all for everything but let's get back to the story. Enjoy!_  
  


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**Chapter 4**  
  


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Ms. Ota sat back down calmly. She seemed to have pulled herself back together rather nicely. Ran sat patiently. The boy had to be confused as to what was transpiring. He was waiting and hoping for some kind of hint as to what was in store. It was going to be quite a shock for him.   
  
In this situation, remaining silent and stoic left the young man with several opinions open and little embarrassment to deal with. He was a very intelligent boy.   
  
The waiter appeared again and cleaned up the mess quietly. Outwardly, nobody took notice of these little things, except the boy. Strange how the simpleminded can't over look the poor very easily. Crawford noticed everything because anything could be harmful. It was that principle that had kept him from getting into many dangerous situations, that and clairvoyance.   
  
The boy would have likely voiced all his thoughts if he hadn't been interrupted. Poor little guy, he had no idea of how much he was in for.   
  
"Darling," said a brunette Japanese man as he entered the glass room, Ota's pathetic excuse for a husband. The older man was nothing extraordinary to look at, except for that ridiculous scar on his left cheek. Two female brunettes followed behind him, his younger sisters. One girl looked horribly familiar.   
  
"Fujimiya Ran! Ah!" shrieked the schoolgirl from earlier that day. She was what started today's horrible events, even though they were actually planned by the suit, it was still her fault for this whole situation. If she'd choked on her baby food, then that boy would never have had to experience the terror that could only be Schuldig when he's in an Armani shop.   
  
Now what the hell was this ditz' name? Was it Sakura? Somebody needed to make a cherry's jubilee out of that child. She'd been helpful in getting the musician into the foreigner's hands and helpful in deafening the crowd.   
  
"Do you always bring that thing along EVERYWHERE you go?" said Schuldig and his partner agreed wholeheartedly. However, words and glares didn't really stop the freak of nature from latching onto the musician's arm.   
  
"Sakura, let Ran go!" Ota ordered. She could be somewhat scary, but not enough to be effective on the teenager.   
  
The American enjoyed every second of watching scar-face as his ugly jaw went slack at the boy's name when Sakura had yelled it. The older brunette woman seemed to have taken more time to react, which was a bit disappointing considering. Ota had referred to him formally. When did they get on friendly terms? And even more importantly, why wasn't this bastard child of a teenage mutant tree frog in school?   
  
"Before you get too comfy imp, you may want to hear your sweet old sister-in-law out first." The pesky little piece of Euro-crash had truly made up for the pain and embarrassment he caused earlier because the toad let go of the poor boy's arm. However, it was probably going to be a short-lived reprieve since there was still the matter of what Ota was going to say. There were always reasons for why that man would act nice; usually it was to save it for later.   
  
His smirk had return. It was a surgical error that had caused the retarded looking facial disfigurement. The American had shot off a large section of the idiot's lower-jawbone during a training exercise. It was the moron's fault for not being quicker back then. The prick wasn't smirking when that happened. It must have been the surgeon's fault. Or maybe the German puff-pasty only learned the trick after he'd had the surgery.   
  
Not important, what was important was the boy. Ota would pay any amount for a chance to have the kid like her. Silly women with their stupid obsessions, she was a walking, talking psychological disorder. Ran was going to become a bigger mess than she is once he realized why they were staring.   
  
Crawford had to admit it was surprising to find out who the little musician from the flight really was. No, he'd not known who the boy was at first. But after catching a glimpse of the young man, a vision had struck him. Crawford had to get his things afterwards, since the vision had quite an influence on the Oracle and the apparent proof needed to be concealed from view.   
  
IT was out of the older man's control really. Seeing oneself pressed up against another man. Watching as hands start roaming and those violet eyes flutter while both their mouths were locked together, tongues battling for dominance and bodies pushing against each other to create a spine tingling sensation. They were obviously going to share this deep kiss and, as much as the American would have gladly denied the notion initially, move on to greater things that would likely become a thoroughly enjoyable experience for both parties.  
  
That orange fluff-ball really enjoyed seeing the American so helpless. However, his liking toward cause of it was short-lived, as most things are with him, since little Red Riding Hood had stepped on the silly orange weasel's tail. It had been one of the few gratifying moments in the businessman's scrupulous life.   
  
Afterwards, the older man did some research on Weiß. Actually, he'd made Nagi do the research because that's what the teenage was good at.   
  
Yet another surprise caught the man. If anyone thought that cherry from hell was the most obsessed fan with Weiß, then they'd never met Nagi. There was little the teen didn't already know about the band, very little but there was something. Something no fan knew about Ran.   
  
In fact, the violet-eyed musician didn't even know the real truth.   
  
"Perhaps somebody should explain everyone's strange behavior," he said casually and adjust his glasses. This was not going to be good for the young man, but it had to be done. There needed to be a reason for him to be near the musician. That would be simple since he and his colleagues were bodyguards after all. However, the Takatori family were cheap bastards, if one couldn't tell from their first choice for bodyguards, but Ota would think nothing of money when it came to protect her precious Ran. The Ota Cooperation was more lucrative than that koala's whole family tree ever could be anyway.   
  
Even if the vision foretold an intensely gratifying situation to come that didn't mean Crawford couldn't profit further from it.   
  
"Yes, an explanation would be nice," Ran added. He was exquisite; the foreigner couldn't argue that fact. This transaction was going to be delicious for the older man and nutritious for his bank account also.   
  
But first, the truth had to come out, the painfully horrifying truth. And it was not in reference to the cherry bomb being entirely of the human race. The boy might be traumatized after this, but the ends justify the means.   
  
And Crawford saw that both of men would end up in very delightful positions.   
  


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I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you again for taking the time to read it and the wonderful reviews you've given me!  
  



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